


Your Hands Still Catch the Light

by trashprinxe



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Other, ZabuHaku, aka- two losers that can't admit their feelings, content warnings in description, nonbinary!Haku, sappy oneshot, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashprinxe/pseuds/trashprinxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" Perhaps they have reached the edge of the world. Everything is slowly falling away, and the only sensation that Haku can register is the feeling of their hand pressed between two warm, rough ones... "</p><p>In which Haku is seriously injured on a mission, and Zabuza realizes just how precious his so-called "tool" is.<br/><i>or</i><br/>In which Zabuza doesn't know how to use his words, and Haku gets more out of him than they ever thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Hands Still Catch the Light

**Author's Note:**

> I started off trying to write this fic using he/him/his pronouns for Haku, but it just didn't feel right so I switched to they/them/theirs instead and it was much better. Haku is nonbinary, I don't make the rules. The title is from La Dispute's song "Nobody, Not Even the Rain" which honestly doesn't have much to do with the fic, but is very ZabuHaku. " _I swear that even with the distance slowly wearing at your name, your hands still catch the light the right way, and our hearts still beat the same_."
> 
> This is a Canon Divergence AU, in a world where Zabuza and Haku were never hired by Gatō and they got more of a chance to grow into themselves and their relationship. It's set a few years after their canon appearance.
> 
> T rating for strong language and brief descriptions of violence. Content warning for alcohol (briefly referenced), descriptions of pain and injuries, brief ableist language, references to dying and the desire to be dead, a somewhat non-consensual kiss, and dehumanization(? I guess? Haku referencing to themself as a tool and a weapon rather than a person).

“Please— stay still, Haku. I know it hurts, just try not to move...”

Their master's voice sounds strange. That must be the blood-loss, or the pain, Haku muses, because in all the years that Haku has served him Zabuza has never sounded so distressed. And the idea of him sounding so worried— worried enough to cause his naturally-assured voice to come out so cracked and dry— is just absurd enough that Haku knows they must be hallucinating it. Well, if they are dying, at least their mind is making up comfortable lies for the end.

And _fuck_ , it certainly feels like they're dying. There's fire in their side, radiating through their bones, not drowning out so much as overpowering the pain of all their other injuries, and it hurts to _breathe_ but they can't control the motion, can't control their body's humiliating neediness as they gasp for air, gasp and gasp and there's just not _enough_. Their head is swimming, their vision wavering and all dark around the edges, the pounding of their own, desperate heart a cacophony in their ears. Their cold, shaking hands are clinging to something, as if the act can keep them tethered to consciousness and, oh, it's Zabuza's shirt, they can see the man hovering above them, though the image is blurred.

“Sh, Haku please,” Zabuza's voice has never been so gentle, this would be a wonderful delusion if it weren't for all the _pain_. “Try to stay quiet, I'm almost done...”

Ah, so the terrible noise that had ripped through the air, half scream and half sob, had been _them_. Well that makes sense, as it had followed an increase in the flames, if that's possible. Funny, they hadn't made the decision to scream. Haku feels strangely detached from their own vocal chords, from their whole body, honestly. That's probably for the best, if they think about it...

The world shifts and they vaguely register the sensation of strong, broad arms, their head resting forward against impossibly warm skin. Something is pulling tight around their torso— bandages? The fire has eased somewhat by now, still staggering but no longer unbearable. They are laid back down against something soft, and the world seems warmer and dimmer by the moment.

“Here, drink this,” comes the voice again, and some foul-tasting liquid is being forced into their mouth; it is warm and bitter and burns in the back of their throat but they obey the voice, feel that they would obey that voice even if it told them to sprint over the edge of the world...

Perhaps they have reached the edge of the world. Everything is slowly falling away, and the only sensation that Haku can register is the feeling of their hand pressed between two warm, rough ones.

 

When Haku's eyes flutter open, the first thing that they're aware of is that everything is too bright, and for a brief moment, they wonder if they are dead. The second thing they're aware of is that it feels as though they've fallen off a cliff and no, they must not be dead, because there's no way that being dead could hurt _this much_...

Their eyes circle around the room, brain struggling to catch up, to take inventory of their surroundings. They're on a mattress on the floor of a small room, by the fireplace where the remnants of a fire burns in orange coals. The room is bare of most furniture, the wallpaper peeling off to reveal warped wood underneath. Someone is sitting against the wall next to them, but from this angle, Haku can only see their legs. They tilt their head back to find who the legs belong to, but the motion pulls against something at their side, and _fuck_ , that hurts. They hiss in a quick breath of air, and the figure next to them is stirring, moving to kneel beside them, and they find themself gazing up at Zabuza's worried face.

It all returns to them in a rush. The run-down motel that was their temporary residence, the mission that had gone so horribly wrong. The two of them had been misinformed by the client, they were outnumbered, and Haku was trying, gods, they were trying, but they couldn't keep them all back, there were too many and... and they'd been injured. They had failed. Their face burns with shame and they close their eyes, turning their head away so that Zabuza cannot look at them. Cannot look at this terrible failure they've become. Vaguely, they wonder why their master hadn't just let them die. Surely Zabuza could have no use for a weapon that could not defend him.

“Shit, does it still hurt that bad?” Zabuza's hands hover uselessly above Haku, as though he isn't sure if he'd do more harm than good in touching them anywhere. “I've got some more of that rice wine around here. It won't help much, but it might be better than nothing.”

“I'd rather have some water, actually,” Haku's voice is small and it hurts to talk; their throat is dry and their vocal chords feel raw.

“Right, of course.” Zabuza's voice sounds gruff as usual, but there's something surprisingly tender behind it. Could it be that Haku hadn't been imagining his concern before, delirious as they were? They can hear the scuffle as Zabuza pulls himself to his feet and over to the sink in the corner, can hear the water rushing through the pipes. Slowly, ever so slowly, they drag themself into a sitting position, gritting their teeth against the protests of their injuries. They have a good enough grip on human anatomy and healing that they know not to push themself too far, but also know their body's limits.

“What are you doing?” Zabuza is back, kneeling beside the mattress, a calloused hand on Haku's shoulder, trying to ease them back down. Haku shakes their head slowly but defiantly, and takes the glass being offered to them. The water has a metallic, mineral taste but it is cool and soothes the rawness of their throat. Probably raw from all the screaming, they note in a detached sort of way.

“Slowly,” Zabuza advices, and Haku complies, even though they're thirsty enough to drain the whole glass in a few gulps and then demand more. They take a few more sips, then set the glass down on the floor, sitting up a little bit more, letting out a small whimper in response to the movements.

“Don't push yourself,” Zabuza snaps, and that is more like him, even though that faint hint of tenderness is still there, and what is going _on_?

“Why,” Haku whispers, half amazed, still not quite looking at their master, small hands balling into fists to hide the fact that they are trembling.

“Why what?”

“Why didn't you just let me die?” Haku peeks over at Zabuza as they say it in that matter-of-fact way of theirs, and therefore catches the look of utter shock on Zabuza's face before he covers it up with his typical, stoic facade. “Why save me?”

“Haku, what are you saying?”

“I _failed you_ ,” Haku can't quite keep the hysteria from building in their voice, knows that they shouldn't work themself up like this, but can't fight it. They can't shake the knowledge that they'd failed at their _one_ objective in life. Their only purpose was to serve Zabuza, and if they couldn't do that, well then, _what were they good for_? They didn't realize they were crying until a sob was ripped from their chest, and they doubled over at the pain that blossomed with the motion. “What's the use in a— a broken tool?”

“ _Haku_ ,” Zabuza's hand is on their shoulder, squeezing in reassurance, clearly trying to stop Haku's downward spiral of distress. After a few deep gasps, Haku steels themself to look up, sees Zabuza's face just as serious as ever, his eyes burning with sincerity. “Is that what you think?”

Haku's lips ghost over words they can't articulate, and in the end they say nothing.

Zabuza shakes his head, and continues. “You didn't _fail_ me, you _saved_ me.”

That's right, that's when the crushing blow of a sword ripped their flesh and broke their bones: when they moved in front of Zabuza to take the blow for him. Still, it doesn't change the fact that Haku had caused them to lose the fight, had forced them to retreat back to this shit-hole of a room, likely unpaid, had been left injured and useless and a burden on Zabuza. They open their mouth just slightly to voice all of this, but before they have the chance Zabuza's lips are on theirs, warm and chapped and surprisingly soft.

 _Oh_.

Haku barely has time to register what is happening before Zabuza pulls away, leaving his face inches from theirs, something strange and foreign burning in his eyes. It's so close to his look of anger, but is slightly different. Passion, maybe? No, it's still a softer shade than that. Something subdued, yet intense. But no, Haku's thoughts shy away before they hit something unfathomable, something they've been trying for years upon years to deny. Still, their face is flushing and they are shaking and Zabuza is pulling away, and no, wait that's not what they want...

“That was...” Zabuza's voice is gruff and gods, is it possible that he is just as flustered as Haku? He clears his throat, “That was inappropriate and uncalled for.” An unspoken _I’m sorry_ hangs in the air.

Haku can only stare stupidly at the older man, entirely oblivious to the pain of their injuries now, only aware of the heat in their face and the conspicuous absence on their lips, and the fact that all they want in the world is to be kissing Zabuza again. This can't be real.

“No, it's... I don't...” and of _course_ , Haku always has a witty remark ready for Zabuza until this moment. “That was... fine. But, I don't understand...?”

“I, uh,” Zabuza clears his throat again, clearly searching for words. But he doesn't distance himself from Haku. In fact, he takes their hand in his as he sorts through what he wants to say. Zabuza has never been one for words, Haku knows, far preferring action. So they wait patiently, breathless at the idea of Zabuza communicating with them. Ordinarily, they get little more than a gesture, or a small noise of either displeasure or assent. The only long-winded explanations they ever receive are battle strategies. “I'm just so fucking relieved that you're alive. I was so afraid—” This is making less and less sense by the moment. Zabuza fears nothing. Zabuza is the _demon of the fucking mist_. “—Shit, you were bleeding so much, I thought you were dead by the time we made it back. I thought I was going to lose you. No one has ever risked themselves for me, before you, no one has ever put me before themselves, like you have always done, and I never... until that moment I never realized.”

Haku's heart is blooming with all the love they have ever repressed for the man before them, hearing the words that they've waited so long for. They barely dare to breathe, afraid that it would break the spell and this beautiful illusion would be shattered.

“You're all I have,” Zabuza confesses, and it is painfully and profoundly true, and in this moment sounds frighteningly close to _I love you_. If Haku is crying again, Zabuza does not comment on it. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Hm, probably get grievously injured by a swordsmen from _Iwagakure_ , I suppose,” Haku retorts through the tears, but their laughter is sunshine bright, bubbling out of them. A wide smile splits their face, and a freshly closed cut strains at the motion but they can hardly bring themself to care. This is just too much, too good to be true, this praise, this acknowledgment. They are _necessary_ to Zabuza. They had failed and yet are not going to be turned away. Relief and joy in equal measure courses through them, until they are shaking not from pain, or fear, but from a profound sense of trust and love.

Zabuza frowns at the joke, but his displeasure does not meet his eyes, which are still awash with that unnamed emotion. He lifts a hand to brush Haku's long, dark hair back where strands have fallen from their typical bun. His hand lingers longer than is necessary, eventually falling into place cupping the curve of Haku's jaw. The sword-master is staring at Haku like he can't quite believe they're real.

“ _Don't_ frighten me like that again.” It would sound like a typical command, if he wasn't so earnest.

Haku rolls their eyes, blushing deeply.

“Yes, Zabuza-san,” they answer dutifully, but the adrenaline and near-death experience are making them brave, and with a light smirk they lean forward to capture Zabuza's lips once more. As the kiss is returned, they vaguely find themself hoping that this will become a permanent fixture in their relationship. Kissing Zabuza has swiftly become their favorite thing in the world.


End file.
